


Momentum

by Seefin



Series: Headway [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Going Hard on Friendship, Growing Up, HP: EWE, Hermione POV, Multi, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seefin/pseuds/Seefin
Summary: Harry stays where he is, looking up at her. There’s a love bite on his chest that she left there yesterday, dark and huge. She wonders for a second what Draco thought when he saw it. What he thought about her.





	Momentum

Hermione’s parents enjoy telling people about what she used to be like when she was growing up. But they didn’t start to do it until recently, which she thinks probably has something to do with the fact that for a long time they didn’t remember anything about her. Now whenever she takes Ron and Harry to the house she grew up in, there are stories about her. About their trips to the coast and the red dungarees she wore, about how she would keep books under her pillow when she slept at night, about how brave they thought she was, for going to Hogwarts, and for everything that happened because of her going. It might have made her embarrassed once, but now she doesn’t really mind, especially since Harry and Ron make no secret at all about the fact that they love listening. They tease her afterwards sometimes, but it’s made fond by the way they so clearly like knowing those things about her.

Her mother once said: “Hermione loved to ask questions. She would ask so many questions that sometimes I would get tired of answering, and make her go ask her dad. And then she’d come back and she’d have more. _What is that? And why is it like that? Can I hold that? Can I see? Can I see, please?”_

And Ron replied: “It’s always been like that, then,” and smiled, and Harry smiled, and that had been the first time they’d seen her parents after they remembered her again.

It’s true that she likes questions, but she likes answers better. She can’t remember where she was when she realised how easy it was to know things, anything, anything you wanted to. She thinks it must have taken her by surprise, though. And once she realised that, she realised there wasn’t any excuse for her to not know as much as she could, about the things she liked or the things she was interested in, or even things she wasn’t particularly interested in but that might come in useful. There wasn’t any excuse for not knowing something completely, because it might save your life one day. And, to her credit, knowing things _had_ saved her life, and Harry’s too, and Ron’s, more times than she could count.

*

 “I don’t understand,” Hermione says slowly. She’s a little out of breath, still, and her feet feel odd in a way they haven’t before.

She’s been off work for a week, recovering after she had to regrow all the bones in her left leg. She’s fine, obviously, skele-gro works fast, but there’s a lot of procedure surrounding accidents in the field. So it’s Ron’s turn being away, and she’s here with Harry, waiting for herself to get better and for him to come back. She and Harry have been fucking a lot, catching up on paperwork. It’s been nice. Quiet.

Harry has his face pressed into the pillow, but he turns onto his side to look at her with a sigh. There’s sweat cooling on his back, on his temples, even though they’ve opened the windows. He blinks at her a few times, as if gathering himself. Sex always makes him a little dazed, it’s the same with Ron.

“You can’t just-” he says, and then breaks off to swallow. His eyes sink shut. “You can’t just have half a conversation in your head and then say something as if you’re just continuing it.” She pokes him in the side, and his eyes flicker open again tiredly, but he’s smiling. “Alright,” he says, looking at her. “You don’t understand what?”

For a second she doesn’t want to ask him, with the way he’s watching her. But she’s been thinking about it. “The thing with you and Draco,” she tells him.

Whatever reaction she was expecting, it wasn’t this, the way Harry shuffles closer to her, puts his hand on her bare stomach where she can still feel her heart beating. He shrugs one shoulder, the one that isn’t pressed against the mattress. “There’s not much to understand,” he says.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she replies.

He glances up at her, something sharp in his gaze. “Hermione,” he says, warning, as though she’s the type of person who will stop in their tracks when someone looks at them sternly, and says their name in that tone of voice.

“I just want to understand,” Hermione says. “He’s engaged. That’s odd to me.”

Harry taps his fingers on her stomach, and something sparks under his hand, where he’s touching her, like a static shock. His come is drying on her thigh, but she wants him inside her again already, just to have him there.

“It’s not odd to me that you and Ron are engaged,” he responds.

“Ron and I aren’t engaged,” Hermione says, frowning.

“It’s not odd to me that you and Ron are going to end up together,” Harry amends, like it costs him nothing. But it breaks Hermione’s heart, a little, hearing that.

“Why do you think that?” she breathes. “You think there’s no space for you?”

“I just think that’s the way it goes,” Harry says, shaking his head. He doesn’t sound sad. “I’ve sort of grown out of being jealous.”

She kicks him in the shin, not hard, not so it’ll bruise. He doesn’t react. “It’ll go whatever way we want it to go,” she says, angry now, that he could think that way. “We’re always going to love you. Don’t make out like Ron and I are the ones who--” she cuts off, before she says something stupid.

Harry kisses her, leans in and kisses her, at the corner of her mouth. His hand goes to her hip, squeezes down tightly, and she rolls towards him, kisses back. He bites her bottom lip and then backs off. “I’m not unhappy, with how things are now. I love the way things are now.” She doesn’t say that maybe he should be, even though for a second she thinks it.

“But Draco’s going to get _married,_ ” Hermione says, desperately. He _should_ be upset about that. She hears the way Harry talks about him, when he’s tired and can’t be bothered with keeping it a secret. “And you’re under some mistaken impression that Ron and _I_ are going to get married, and what, leave you by yourself?”

His hand slides up her side, until he has his thumb on her right nipple. He digs his nail in a little, just enough so she can feel it. “I want to ask you something,” he says, and she nods. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to concentrate for much longer. “Are you upset about Draco and I? After what he did to you?”

His thumb is still there, circling, and his hands are so warm. She shakes her head. She’s had a long time to think about it. “He’s an Auror,” she says. “He’s part of our team. He’s saved my life twice in the field. He’s apologised to me, and he’s worked hard to make himself better. I’m not upset about the fact that it’s _him,_ I’m upset at the way he’s treating you.”

“I wouldn’t let anybody treat me in a way I didn’t want to be treated,” Harry tells her seriously. Which is true, she knows it’s true.

“I think he’s stupid for wanting to marry anyone else apart from you,” Hermione tells him, and then kisses his neck, his collarbone. She sucks hard on the skin there, and puts her teeth on him. She wants it to bruise. She’s not jealous. Harry will always be hers, in one way or another. Her and Ron will always have loved him the longest.

“Astoria’s hot,” Harry says, his breath shaking. “She’s smart, and very funny, and she’s fucking Pansy Parkinson.”

“What?” Hermione asks, breathless and pulling away from him.

“I’m going to tell you something,” Harry says, and rolls her onto her back. She goes, easily. He kisses her face, the side of her nose, her mouth, harder than before, his tongue slipping against hers. He gets his hand into her pubic hair and she arches underneath him, only half on purpose. He’s hard, pressing against her hip, the tip of his dick wet on her skin. He puts his fingers inside her, two of them, and holds them there.

“Draco doesn’t want to marry anyone else except me,” Harry says, his eyes on hers, and pushes in a little deeper. She can feel his knuckles. “It’s just taking him a long time to realise it.”

*

Ron is away, still, and they’re both slightly sad. Neither of them say they’re sad, because they don’t have to, but they both know what the other is thinking. And at the moment they’re both thinking that they wish he was here for this. Harry’s just been cleared for a partner, after three years of waiting, and even though he doesn’t know who it is yet or if they’ll be nice, they’re still celebrating, in the Muggle pub nearest to the Auror headquarters.

Hermione’s one of the last to arrive, still in her desk uniform. She hasn’t been into the field in thirteen days now, and she’s feeling restless. Like she’s vibrating out of her skin, as though she’d like to shout something loud in the street, or get in a friendly wrestling match. Probably she’ll just go for a run.

“Hermione!” Harry calls, waving her over to the table where they normally sit, and she makes her way over. It’s busy, Friday nights usually are.

“Congratulations,” she says, and kisses him on the cheek. He’s warm and flushed and soft. He’s bought her a drink too, and he slides it over to her on a coaster when she sits down next to him, opposite Nina, who has been Draco’s partner for ages, and who hardly ever comes out with them.

“Harry persuaded you to join us?” she says, and Nina laughs. She’s pretty, friendly, and she puts up with Malfoy. Hermione likes her a lot.

“It’s a special occasion. I can’t stay for long though,” she says, smiling. “And it was Draco, actually.”

Draco is on Harry’s other side, his arm slung around the back of Harry’s chair. Hermione had tried not to notice that when she came in, but now she has no choice but to look, at the way Harry’s leaning into him.

“Granger,” Draco says, grinning. He’s had a few drinks already, by the looks of things, his cheeks gone red and his hair flopping into his eyes. She doesn’t know-- he’s not attractive, she doesn’t think, but she can’t be sure. “How are you?”

“Good,” she says. And then something awful in her spurs her to ask: “How’s Astoria?”

Harry flinches, not at her name, Hermione doesn’t think, but at the fact that she asked. Nina looks between them, nervously.

Draco’s grin solidifies, and it’s only now that it’s frozen that Hermione realises it had been real before, that he’d been pleased to see her. She doesn’t quite feel guilty, but almost.

“Very well,” he says shortly. “She liked you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, they met so briefly. But-- “I liked her too,” Hermione says, and finds that it’s the truth. “She seems like she doesn’t put up with much bullshit.”

Draco laughs, and brushes his hand against Harry’s shoulder. She catches the gesture out of the corner of her eye, and doesn’t know how to feel about it. “She doesn’t,” he agrees, and tilts his head to the side. His gaze is heavy, and Hermione almost wants to blush. “A lot like you, I think,” he says, with a small smile.

Nina snorts. “I’m going to go and get a drink,” she says, and then wanders off in the direction of the bar. Harry is the only person who watches her go.

Draco’s fingers are on the back of Harry’s neck now, and Hermione thinks about cutting them off. She told Harry she didn’t mind that it was Draco, that she didn’t mind that they were together. And it was true when she said it, but somehow it isn’t true now. She doesn’t know how that works.

“I think I might go home,” she says, and Harry jolts his head around to look at her properly. He frowns.

“Why?” he asks, but she doesn’t answer.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Draco says, but he sounds sort of gleeful at the idea. She ignores him, and stands up.

“I’ll see you later,” she says to Harry, picking up her gin and tonic, and then she’s in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place before she can even think. She takes a sip of her drink, leans hard against the counter.

She shouldn’t have done that, she shouldn’t have left.

With a crack, Harry appears in the kitchen, holding his coat. He comes towards her a little and then stops. “Why did you leave?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “You don’t like seeing him?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- you should be celebrating.”

Harry shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s stupid of me to expect you to-- have drinks with him, like it’s normal.”

“You _should_ expect that,” Hermione says. Her hands are shaking, and he’s all the way on the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t know why I can’t--”

“You’re jealous,” Harry says. “It’s okay. I get that too sometimes.”

“Do you?” Hermione asks.

“I used to,” Harry concedes. “Back when I used to be bad at asking for the things I wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Hermione tells him. She sets her glass down on the wooden surface, beside their spice rack.

“I know what you want,” Harry says, and that makes her look at him, properly. He’s staring back at her, his arms loose by his side, waiting for her to call him over. She nods, and he walks toward her, abandoning his coat on the back of a chair.

“What do I want?” she asks. He’s so close now, she can smell him. Cold air, a little like beer, and the faint smell of Draco’s cologne.

“You want me to yourself,” he says, his voice low, as he undoes the top button on her trousers. “But I don’t think you know that you can have that. It’s normal to not want to share, I think. And sometimes I only want you.”

“You do?” she asks, surprised to hear him say it.

“And sometimes I only want Ron,” he says, into the skin of her neck. “Or Draco.”

“Okay,” she says. “I don’t--”

“Just ask me,” Harry says. He kisses her jaw, gently. “And I’ll give you what you want. Figure it out, and I’ll give it to you.”

“And if I said--” she says, and then forces herself to stop talking. She’s trying to work her head around what Harry has just given her. The way he said it makes her think he’s telling the truth. That she could ask him to do anything, and he would, whatever she wanted. He trusts her. He trusts her to be careful with him.

Harry makes a questioning noise, when she fails to keep talking.

“I’m sorry that I’m mean sometimes,” she says. “I’m sorry that I left early.”

“I kind of like it,” Harry says. “And I’m going back in a bit, anyway.”

She thinks for a moment, holds him tight against her.

“I want you to go down on me,” she says, and when he smiles she can feel it against her shoulder. He kneels on the floor, pulls her trousers down, her underwear, and then looks up at her. She breathes in, shuddering, when he gets his mouth on her, pulling her legs apart, gripping her thighs.

She tips her head back, closes her eyes. “You know it’s the same for me,” she manages, and his fingers tighten, pressing into her skin. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

 *

They’re on the sofa in Harry’s flat in Shepherds Bush, which he has because sometimes he likes having his own space. Hermione has a key though, and so does Ron, that she keeps in the lining of her winter coat. Harry’s trying to be quiet, because there are thin walls between his flat and the one next door where a family live.

“What do you do when it’s just you and Ron?” she asks, sinking down onto him. He moans, when she doesn’t move back up, and tries to thrust into her. “Stop,” she says, and he stills. He opens his eyes. “Don’t move,” she says, and his hands twitch on her waist. She tightens herself around him, and he jumps, his dick hot inside her.

“I-- don’t know,” he says, bewildered that she would ask him this, now, when he’d just told her he was about to come in her.

“When I’m away,” Hermione clarifies, “for work. What do you like to do?”

Harry swallows, and looks up at her, his eyes wide and dark. “We just-- I don’t know, we just. Are you asking about sex?”

“Yes,” Hermione says.

“Um,” he says, and moves his head a little to either side, like he’s clearing it. “The same kind of stuff we do when you’re here. Blowjobs, that kind of thing.”

“Do you fuck?” she asks, lifting up until just the head of his dick is inside her. Her thighs are going to kill, after this.

He frowns, a little. “Yeah,” he says tentatively. “You know we do.”

“Is it different when it’s just you?” she asks, sitting back down, hard. He makes a noise in his throat at that.

“Yeah,” he says again, sounding more like himself now. “Kind of. He likes different things than you do?”

“Yeah?” Hermione echoes. “What does he like? What do you do for him?”

“You _know this,_ ” Harry says, stroking her back. “You have sex with him all the time, just you and him. What do _you_ do?”

Hermione leans back, jolting as the angle changes. “He likes to watch me,” Hermione says. “Does he like that from you?”

“Watch you-- wank?” Harry asks, and she nods. “Yeah, I-- not really that often. We have, though.”

“What do you do most often?” Hermione asks. There’s sweat on Harry’s face, she wants to lick it off, but instead just kisses him on the lips. He kisses her back, sweetly, opening his mouth.

“He likes fingering me,” Harry says, and then laughs a little. “He likes it when I suck him off. I-- Is it weird that we’re talking about this?”

Hermione shrugs. “I miss him,” she says.

“Me too,” Harry replies, tilting his head to the side as he watches her. “He likes it when I take my time. Like-- when I go down on him for ages and ages.”

“Mm,” Hermione says, and clenches. “He does like it slow.”

“I think he likes it best when it’s all three of us,” Harry confesses, after a moment. “It’s-- different, I know it’s different. But I think he likes having both of us there.”

Hermione starts moving again, slower than she had been before. “You can,” she says, urging him, and he moves to meet her, fucking into her.

“I want you both in me at the same time,” she tells him, and he falters for a second.

“Seriously?” he asks, which makes her consider it.

“Maybe,” she says. “I don’t actually know. I think it would hurt.”

Harry shrugs. “We could probably make it not hurt, if you really wanted to. It shouldn’t hurt.”

She shakes her head, blinks. “I don’t know. Let’s just do this for now.”

He nods, and slips his hand down to her stomach, lower, circles his thumb on her clit. “I can’t believe you said that,” he says. He sounds pleased, like he’d want it.

For a split second, she considers asking him what he does with Draco. If it’s like this, if it’s like it is with Ron, what they do together. She’s interested, she likes knowing things about Harry, and he’d probably tell her. But just because he’d probably tell her doesn’t mean he’d want her to actually know. So she stays silent, breathing fast, until she comes against his hand and he does the same, hot inside her, hard.

*

She walks in on them in Harry’s flat, on the same sofa she and Harry had fucked on the day before. Ron’s still away. She’s brought wine over.

They’re not fucking, but they look like they’re close to it. Harry’s shirt is half undone, and Draco’s on top of him, between his spread legs, kissing him.

She’s taken her coat off by the time they realise she’s there. “Oh,” Draco says, sitting up quickly, his mouth red.

Harry stays where he is, looking up at her. There’s a love bite on his chest that she left there yesterday, dark and huge. She wonders for a second what Draco thought when he saw it. What he thought about her.

“Sorry,” she says, even though she isn’t. Harry rolls his eyes at her, and she smiles at him, slowly. “Do you want a drink?”

“No?” Draco says, flustered. “I’d like you to leave.” She stays where she is, and Harry kicks him in the thigh, sitting up. “What?” Draco says, frowning. “I think that’s a pretty reasonable request.”

“She has a key,” Harry says. “I can’t keep her out. Like a very persistent cat.”

Draco snorts. “Well,” he says. “You sort it out. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Once he’s gone, she goes to straddle Harry’s lap. He’s hard, and she can feel his dick pressing against the seam of her jeans.

He sighs. “This is weird.”

“Yes,” she says, and moves against him. “Weird that you have an erection for Draco Malfoy.”

His eyes widen in shock, and he laughs as though he can’t help it. “You surprise me so much,” he says.

“Does Draco get jealous?” Hermione asks him.

“Jesus,” Harry says. “Don’t even get me started.”

She kisses his mouth, wide from laughing, and he kisses her back. She pulls away, and climbs off him. “I’d better go,” she says.

He pauses, before he says: “You don’t have to.”

She does. She does have to. And for some reason today she doesn’t mind. “It’s hard having you out of my sight,” she confesses.

“I know,” he says. “I thought that feeling would go away after the war was over.”

She shrugs, and puts the bottle of wine down onto his coffee table. Draco will probably hate it, which is why she feels okay about leaving it here for them.

“I don’t think it’s ever going to go away,” she tells him.

**Author's Note:**

> if u liked this you can come talk to me about it on [tumblr](http://seefin.tumblr.com/), where I am 24/7 tbh


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